


Lay Your Head on Me

by Nadare



Series: Connor's First [6]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Dancing, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Fundraisers, Jealousy, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Upgrades, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:35:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26149567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadare/pseuds/Nadare
Summary: Though Hank had always been handsome to Connor, something of a silver fox element to him, since he had altered his diet and lightened up on his drinking, his appeal had gone up considerably.Of course tonight with the fancy dress uniform, the status quo was different, which might explain why Connor had a hard time looking elsewhere. Especially now that they were alone again.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Series: Connor's First [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107594
Comments: 24
Kudos: 91





	Lay Your Head on Me

**Author's Note:**

> While familiarity with the first five parts helps, this can be read as a standalone story.

_A/N: So much fluff. ^^_

* * *

**_“Connor’s First”_ **

_Part 6: Lay Your Head on Me_

Standing over the open car trunk, Hank handed Connor a grocery bag, the latter taking it and placing the handles over his shoulder so he could easily take on another if needed.

"Mr. Anderson!" A warm female voice called out nearby, Connor glancing to his left where a short woman was walking towards them. She had gentle facial features and a somewhat portly figure, her eyes immediately settling on Hank. “I hoped I would catch you.”

Hank straightened up from the open trunk, leaning out from the side of it. A little color drained from his face. “Oh, uh, Deedra, good to see you. Has Sumo been giving you any trouble?”

“Oh, he’s a sweetie. No problems there,” Deedra replied lightly. She glanced at Connor, leaning closer in interest as she noted the LCD on his forehead. “And who is _this_?”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Hank looked to Connor awkwardly as if to say ‘please help me out here.’ Connor silently took up the prompt.

Armed with the knowledge that Deedra was the infamous next-door neighbor who had left them the generous gift basket, Connor immediately slid the bag from his shoulder and held out a hand to her with a smile. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met yet. I’m Connor, Hank’s partner.

“We greatly appreciated your gift the other day. It was very considerate.” Hank looked up to the sky briefly and sighed, seeming regretful he’d let Connor take control of the conversation.

Deedra looked flustered as she laid her hand in Connor’s. “Oh, my,” she said. “You’re so welcome. I had no idea you were…well, what you are. Will any of it be of any use do you think?”

Letting his hand drop to his side, Connor nodded. “I can assure you it will, though we’ve decided to take things on the slo-“

“So,” Hank suddenly interrupted, stepping between the two. “We should be getting this stuff into the house.” He picked up the grocery bag Connor had placed on the ground and handed it back to him. “Don’t you think?”

Deedra gasped under her breath. “I didn’t mean to keep you. I’ll catch you another time.” She grinned at Connor. “Very nice to meet you, Connor. Please don’t be a stranger.”

“Of course, you too,” Connor responded, then followed Hank to the front door as he was unlocking it. He pressed close to Hank’s shoulder once he had managed to open it. “That was quite rude, Hank.”

His eyes narrowing, Hank said nothing as he trooped into the kitchen until he’d emptied out half of the grocery bag, then he turned to Connor, looking annoyed. “I don’t know how it is in android relationships, but you generally keep your personal business private. You don’t discuss it with people you’ve just met.”

Connor felt a thread of anger rise in him at Hank’s rough tone of voice. “Considering she already knows about us, I felt it only polite to confide in her about the matter. If you’d rather I didn’t, you simply have to make a request and I’ll follow suit accordingly.

“After all, despite my many talents, I can’t read minds. Not human ones anyway.” Connor slammed the bottle of ketchup he’d retrieved from his bag on the table, Hank watching him closely. “I thought we’d been communicating well together unless I was wrong on that count.”

Hank started laughing. “Man, you really are making leaps and bounds all the time.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, leaving the rest of the groceries alone for the moment. “I’m sorry, Connor, you’re right, we’ve been doing great so far. You know, all things considered.”

Hank put his arms down on the table. “And as much as I enjoy seeing you angry, let’s cut this thing off at the head.” He took a deep breath. “This is me making a formal request to not disclose details of our relationship to anyone unless we discuss it ahead of time. Agreed?”

Letting go of the uncomfortable tightness that had gathered in his chest, not liking how anger had affected his mental state, Connor blew out a breath, taking a seat across from Hank. “Agreed.”

“Good,” Hank said, shooting him a grin. “Now let’s finish putting this crap away so we can start dinner and get in the next Bond movie before bed.”

It was a good plan and one Connor very much looked forward to implementing. With both of them working at the task at hand and Sumo getting in the way once, curious about what they’d brought home, soon everything was in its rightful place.

“Shepherd’s pie tonight, right? I can start on the potatoes if you want.”

Connor turned to Hank with interest. He was usually only too happy to go to the living room to watch TV or listen to music until dinner was ready. Perhaps he thought Connor was unhappy with the status quo. “If you’d like. I would enjoy the company.”

“It’s just,” Hank started, grabbing five or so potatoes from the pantry and a medium-sized pot. “Always having to cook has to get annoying after a while.”

Chopping at a variety of vegetables, Connor’s knife struck true with each blow on the cutting board. “There’s no need to worry on that count, Hank. It’s very pleasant putting together meals. I only wish I could eat them with you.”

It was clear by the haphazard way Hank was peeling the potatoes that it had been a while since he’d stepped into the kitchen for anything other than eating or drinking. Still, he was making progress on the potatoes, if at a rather faster than advisable pace.

“I guess Kamski didn’t have that upgrade in stock.” Hank’s tone was disapproving, Connor sure he’d been close to rolling his eyes. 

Sweeping carrots, peppers, celery, and onions into a pan on the stove where some butter had already been added, Connor turned on the burner. Hank’s gibe suggestion was an intriguing matter to contemplate.

“I was so focused on increasing my sensory functions, I didn’t think to ask Elijah for more assistance.” He scratched his chin. “Perhaps I could inquire if such a thing would be possible.”

For a few minutes, Hank didn’t say anything, then he muttered, “Elijah, huh?”

“What?”

Hank shook his head. “Forget it.” He took the pot full of chopped peeled potatoes to the sink, shortly filling it halfway with water. “So you must have heard about the new legislation coming into effect soon.”

A surge of excitement seized him as Connor tossed in ground lamb, the vegetables gone soft in the pan. “Of course. The so-aptly named Asimov bill wherein every android is officially considered a citizen of their respective countries and granted all the rights of a human being.

“CyberLife is being forced to release any intact models still within their factory walls. It's a giant blow to their business model, but I expect they'll recover in time.” Connor added salt and pepper, then beef broth, stirring the liquid and solids together as they simmered.

Hank looked curious at his side, keeping a close eye on the potatoes on the stove. He'd taken the power burner so it wouldn’t take long at all. “How could CyberLife recover from all that shit?”

Motioning for the bottle of Worcestershire sauce on the counter near Hank, Connor took it when it was proffered and replied, “Androids are always going to need Thirium and new parts should they be grievously injured. There's a rather large number of us out there so demand will be high.”

Shaking his head, Hank poked at one of the potatoes in the pot with a fork, the utensil piercing through, proving it was cooked. He pulled the pot off the stove and carefully drained off the water, steam rising to conceal his face. “So despite everything they did to you guys, CyberLife gets off lightly.”

“I wouldn't say that,” Connor replied as he handed Hank the metal masher. “They are currently being sued by a fair number of androids for emotional turmoil and general abuse. Once the Asimov bill officially goes through, that's a lot of settlements to make.”

Armed with some butter and a little cream, Hank made short work of the potatoes. He stepped back to the table when Connor took over, placing the creamy meat and vegetable mixture into the bottom of an 8x8 pan. 

“Reparations, huh? Hope they get everything that's coming to them and more.”

After making sure the potatoes were well-seasoned, Connor spread them over the previous layer. “Androids or Cyberlife?” Down went a light sprinkling of shredded mozzarella cheese, the dish ready for the hot oven.

Hank smiled. “Both.”

Connor responded in kind, in complete agreement, thinking he’d definitely made the right choice of partners once again.

* * *

As Hank got ready for bed, finishing up brushing his teeth, he glanced at Connor. “You know, I've thought this for a while, but you have questionable taste, Connor.”

Sitting on his side of the bed, Connor watched Hank approach the other side. “Why?”

“Because you picked me of all the people out there,” he replied. “I mean, I'm old, stubborn, and rude. I hardly have a romantic bone in my body. We hide away at work like we're having an affair.”

Connor gazed patiently at Hank, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm once Hank had slipped his legs under the covers. “I’ve tried to tell you again and again, but if I must espouse your virtues outright to give your faltering confidence a boost, I will.”

“You don’t have t-“

Connor ignored him, intent on proving his point. “You're a very dedicated public servant who will go the extra mile to do the right thing for someone even if it happens to break the law. As opposed to old, I prefer to think you've sown your wild oats and I would hardly expect you to ever consider cheating on me.

“You're not rude either, merely exceptionally honest, which can be a little off-putting to others. As for romantic, you do indeed have your moments by showing me more consideration and care than most people I interact with daily.

“I rarely feel like I have to put on an act with you. I value all of that and that's why I want to be with you. Not because I need a white knight to ride to my rescue or a protector from the world, but because I like you for _you_.

Color had slowly crept into Hank’s face at the steady progression of Connor’s words. “Connor, stop.”

“No, you need to hear this,” Connor said, shaking his head. “I will gladly keep things professional at work because I want to stay by your side. When you feel comfortable letting the world know about us, I will back you 100%.”

Hank stared at him for a minute before chuckling. “You're way too good for me, Connor. I really don’t deserve you.”

Connor put his head to the side. “I think you do and my opinion matters, does it not?”

Hank rubbed the back of his head, then flopped down onto his back. “It does. I just don’t want you to have any regrets. Not like me.”

“I appreciate your concern but I assure you it’s entirely needless. I’m here because I want to be,” Connor replied, suddenly unsure of how exactly Hank felt towards him. He was definitely fond of Connor, that much was clear, but whether it ran deeper than that was unclear.

Hank patted his shoulder before turning onto his side, his back to Connor. “All right, I get it. Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

After everything that had happened in his past, Connor knew Hank would be a little gun shy about commitment. Still, he was a little surprised how much he wished Hank would trust him with everything including his heart.

Despite how close they'd gotten and their agreement to pursue a relationship together, that night Connor couldn’t help but feel that they weren’t necessarily on the same page.

* * *

As they returned to the precinct bullpen after a busy morning, walking along the right corridor of the large room, Connor spied a familiar face. It was someone he’d made an active effort to avoid given how their last interaction had gone.

Once Gavin laid eyes on him, Connor heaved a mental sigh. He'd been working hard on a series of cases of late and hadn't really had a chance to interact with Connor since the android demonstration. Now though he stood in the staff lounge, periodically sipping at a cup of coffee among some coworkers.

“Well, well, the Ken doll returns.” The venomous statement was sneered, Gavin's buddies emitting a few snickers at it. “Thinks he's a real boy.”

Connor saw Hank square his shoulders and held up a hand, holding him off. Previously, Connor was unable to react in any way but courteously, forced to be polite by his inner code. Now though? Deviancy allowed him to do what he truly desired.

He walked up to Gavin, scanned the temperature of the coffee in his hand, and smiled widely. Perplexed, Gavin didn't react as Connor grabbed his drink and preceded to dump it over the top of his head. As it was ambient heat at that point, there was no danger of scalding Gavin.

“Screw you,” Connor said with a relish that stunned him. Gavin sputtered and cursed, his friends around him looking stunned while Connor was immensely satisfied at the man’s indignation.

“What the fuck?”

For a moment, Connor had considered punching Gavin again as he had months ago in the evidence room while they were fighting but deemed it too severe for a few discriminatory remarks. There was also a delicious sense of poetic justice in giving Gavin something he'd previously requested of Connor back when he’d first come to the station during the deviant investigation.

When one of Gavin’s buddies quickly handed him a few napkins, Connor didn’t have time to dodge as Gavin unexpectedly struck out, his fist hitting Connor straight in the stomach. 

Connor clutched his middle, trying to breathe past the pulsing in his stomach from the sudden gut punch. Gavin stood there rolling his eyes, dripping coffee to the floor, probably thinking Connor’s reaction was exaggerated for everyone’s benefit.

“Oh, come off it, everyone knows androids don’t feel pain.”

Hank’s hands fisted at his side as Connor forced himself to stand up straight. Gavin looked uncertain for the first time Connor had known him. “Right?” he questioned, looking to his buddies for a second who didn't have any ready answers to give him.

“The status quo is ever-changing,” Connor said, neither confirming nor denying Gavin’s statement. Since he was an exception to the rule, Connor didn’t want to advertise his differences from other androids in case Gavin spread the information around and deliberately targeted him again.

He turned on his heel, walking away from Gavin and the breakroom in general, Hank following behind him.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, touching Connor’s shoulder.

Connor nodded. “I was more shocked than hurt. I will survive.” The sensation of soreness was strange on his abdomen, making him wonder if his increased sensitivity would mean he'd bruise at all.

Hank seemed relieved. “Good.” He raised his hand before they sat down, Connor unable to help a smile as he slapped it in a high five.

“Good job,” Hank said while Connor took a seat at his desk, seeming proud of his low-key reaction. “So proud of you.”

Not a shock considering Hank was something of a rebel himself. “I learned from the best,” Connor replied happily, looking at their workload for the rest of the day. 

However, he noticed there was a large white envelope in their inbox. His curiosity piqued as it wasn’t work documents of any kind, Connor waited until Hank had taken a seat and reached for it. 

“It’s that time of year already, huh?” Hank said, throwing the opened envelope onto the desk, a look of exasperation on his face. 

Picking it up the discarded item, Connor took the thick paper inside the envelope out, scanning the text upon it. “Are you not a fan of police balls, lieutenant?” He put down the invite, watching Hank roll his eyes across from him. That’d be a yes then.

“Ugh, it’s just an excuse for people to ogle us in our fancy-dress uniforms.”

Fingering the invite, the paper smooth on the underside of his fingers, Connor raised an eyebrow. “I understood it was also a way to replenish the department’s coffers and provide support for those who've lost a loved one in the line of duty. Not to mention fundraisers also foster goodwill among the city’s community.”

“Yeah, okay,” Hank admitted quickly, sounding irritated. “It's all that too, but it's always so stiff and awkward. If people want to support us, we shouldn't have to parade ourselves in front of them like goddamn beauty contestants.”

Connor hid a smile, thinking it was like Hank to see things that way. Sometimes his cynicism knew no bounds. “I see,” he replied calmly, casting a quick glance at the invite again. “It’s a shame you’re so against it though, I would’ve loved to have seen you in a proper uniform for once.” 

It was an innocent comment on Connor’s part, expressing disappointment he would likely only get a chance to view Hank in such a state once a fellow officer died. Hardly the right occasion to be focused on looks. He hadn’t meant it to be passive-aggressive at all. 

Working on his computer for a while, Hank suddenly stopped and dropped an elbow on his desk as he studied Connor with a knitted brow. “Did you want to go the ball, Connor?” Hank’s voice was slightly strained as if he wanted to drop the subject completely, yet couldn’t.

Looking up at Hank as a surge of excitement lit through him, Connor said slowly, “If it's not too much trouble. I very much understand your reservations on the matter.” Hank wasn’t a social person on the best of days and going to an event full of strangers didn’t seem up his alley.

“Hmm,” Hank said before blowing out a heavy breath. “I suppose if it's only a few hours…we can go.”

Wishing they were at home so he could properly express his appreciation at Hank’s future sacrifice, Connor settled for words instead. “Thank you, lieutenant, I look forward to attending the event. I hope I can make it an enjoyable affair for you.”

Going back to his computer and the report he’d left unfinished, Hank replied dismissively, “Yeah, yeah.”

Still, as Connor spied one corner of his partner’s mouth rising as he eyed the invite on his desk, he thought maybe a tiny part of Hank didn’t find the idea of going to the ball entirely off-putting. 

* * *

**Two Weeks Later…**

Connor finished dressing in no time, the new tuxedo fitting his body perfectly. The benefits of having something professionally tailored. He sat down on one arm of the couch and waited for Hank, eventually going to find him when he was taking a long time.

The bedroom was a mess like usual, but what stopped Connor in his tracks was the sight of Hank in his fancy dress uniform, focused solely on his reflection as he fastened the last two buttons near the top of his collar, gold trim along his shoulders and the sides of his pant legs. He’d never seen Hank in anything less than casual clothes, his rank allowing him to wear what he liked during work.

With Hank’s hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, accentuating his strong jawline, the uniform hugged the man’s body in all the right places. He looked downright dapper thanks to losing weight from adapting to a healthier diet.

“Why am I doing this? Such a damn bother,” Hank muttered to himself, touching the tie tucked beneath the dark blue outer coat, checking it was straight. “But if it makes him happy…”

It took him two tries to speak, Connor’s breath oddly strained. “Are you almost finished?” he managed to ask, struck by the sudden urge to touch Hank. Any part of him.

Jumping at the sound of Connor’s voice, Hank looked flustered as he took in Connor’s presence, feeling Hank’s eyes rake him up and down. Hank bit off a laugh. “You look like a secret agent.”

Connor tugged at his bowtie and in a flawless imitation of Sean Connery’s voice said, “Anderson, Connor Anderson.”

Hank blinked at first, then a few chuckles dropped from him. “Just when I think I’ve figured you out, you go and do that. I didn’t even know you had that ability.”

Pleased his imitation had gone over well, Connor started forward further into the room. “Yes, well, I very much enjoy our movie nights.”

They were slowly watching all 36 spy films in the series, well in the teens at this point. The plots only got more unrealistic but were somehow better as they went along, technology gradually able to match various screenwriters’ ambitions.

“So I see,” Hank said before smirking. “Agent Anderson.”

Connor flushed a little under Hank’s close attention. “I didn’t mean to steal your last name.” Drawing closer, his fingers reached out and closed over Hank’s wrist seemingly on its own.

Hank glanced down at Connor’s hand, then shrugged one shoulder. “I’m more than willing to let you have it, especially since you don’t have one of your own.”

The implication of the act made Connor’s chest ache, momentarily frozen when Hank leaned forward, softly kissing him. It was over too fast, Hank stepping back with a smile.

“It’s a good look on you, Connor.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, we should get going.”

“Of course,” Connor said, fingers lingering on his lips as he touched them briefly before following on Hank’s heels. 

* * *

Parking in a lot a little way from Riverview Centre, the five-minute walk was pleasant, a cool breeze blowing in from the nearby river. Even Hank seemed to enjoy it, though he said nothing to that effect. Still, Connor had learned to read his body language, his relaxed stance only tightening up as they approached the main entrance of the Centre.

Connor walked ahead of Hank, holding open the door for him. He passed through with a little nod, looking to the male host who took one look at them and said, “Another party here for the ball? Follow me, please.”

Going down a small hallway before turning right into a doorway, they were met with a small table manned by a woman and a clipboard, nametags apparently under her purview for the night.

Looking beyond her as Hank checked them in, Connor took in the venue hall, which was large, hosting all matter of community events from concerts to weddings. Tonight, it was host to the annual DPD police ball, a growing crowd of civilians, police officers of varying ranks, and other attendees milling about the area. 

Colorful banners hung from the ceiling and walls, honoring officers who had accomplished much in their careers, as well as ones who had passed away in the line of duty.

His eyes on the elaborately constructed ceiling which consisted of multicolored panels in an ever-complicated pattern, Connor took the name tag Hank offered him.

“I shudder to think what they spent to rent this place,” Hank said, putting his nametag down low on his chest, uncaring if anyone could read it or not.

Connor placed his own where everyone could see it, not bothered by the one-word name. “Appearances matter when it comes to charity events.”

“Hank,” Captain Fowler called out, his dress uniform crisp and bright as he approached the pair. “I never thought I'd ever see you at one of these things. What changed your mind?”

His eyes flicking to Connor, Hank shrugged. “No particular reason.”

As the pair launched into small talk, Connor examined the sea of tables adorning the sides of the room, leaving the dance floor in the middle wide open. Already they were half-filled, people chatting together happily. There was even a good number of androids present as well.

A live orchestra was situated on one part of the stage, playing light instrumental music. The other side held a podium, a microphone strapped to the front of it.

They'd reached their designated table, that of number 4 when Captain Fowler checked his watch. “I need to attend to a matter backstage before things kick-off. Enjoy the ball, Connor.”

“I will, thanks.” Connor wondered when the man had started referring to him so familiarly. Did he know it was at Connor's request that he and Hank were here? On that same line of thought, did he know they were involved romantically? He seemed an intelligent man who'd known Hank since college, surely Fowler would at the very least have an inkling what was going on between them.

His mind abuzz, Connor took a seat, not seeing any name indications. At each place setting sat polished silverware and china, a paper program lying in the middle of the plate.

Picking up the program, he saw there were about six events. A raffle, an auction for any single police officers who'd volunteered to keep a civilian company for the evening, an awards ceremony, and so forth. Little wonder Hank didn’t care much for pomp and circumstance if it extended the length of the ball late into the night.

Understanding the police department had to make a good showing for the public and press, Connor sat back into his seat, watching people gradually fill the remaining tables of the floor. Hank went and fetched a drink instead, nursing it slowly. 

Once the lights dimmed a touch and the spotlight on the podium popped on, Connor turned to view the proceedings with interest. As they reached the awards ceremony portion of the program, Captain Fowler took his place over the podium, looking smart and authoritative.

“Though what follows is not on the program, it is no less important. As you all know, this city of ours has seen a number of changes of late. It hasn’t been easy making the transition and though things will continue to be difficult in the future, we at the DPD want to formalize our position with regards to the androids currently working alongside us in the force.

“In preparation for the new laws that will come into effect soon, we would like to officially welcome them to the police force. So without further ado,” Fowler said, looking out at the floor without the need of his notes. “Connor Anderson, Stacey Brown, John Clark, Melinda Harris…” The list went on until any androids present were requested to line up along the side of the stage.

Wondering what was going on, Connor stood up, Hank’s quick wink cast in his direction telling. Perhaps he’d come to the ball for this as well. Connor recognized the first names of all the androids, but the last ones were new. While he’d been focused on himself and his relationship with Hank, others of his kind were on their own journeys of self-discovery.

Approaching the side of the stage, Connor waited until his name was called, stepping up the stairs to cross the stage, stopping in front of Fowler who took a packaged uniform from an officer standing next to him.

As Fowler handed it to Connor, he smiled. “Happy to have you aboard, Detective.”

His breath short, Connor could only nod, glancing down to see that nowhere on the police uniform was any type of android insignia. There was also a badge with his name and an official number on it within the package as well.

He swallowed the hard lump in his throat, thrown off by the formal acknowledgment of the DPD, something he’d never thought see in his lifetime. So much had changed in nearly a year.

“Thank you, Captain Fowler. I’m very glad to be here,” Connor said, taking Fowler's outstretched hand and shaking it firmly.

The flash of a camera went off at the front of the stage. Connor, aware there were other androids lying in wait behind him, dropped Fowler's hand and finished crossing the stage. Tamping down the wave of emotion inside him, Connor returned to his designated table, his new uniform held close to his chest.

“Did you know this would happen?” Connor asked curiously.

Hank smirked. “I found out about it a week ago,” he replied. “About damn time they acknowledged all your hard work. I mean you didn’t even draw a salary, yet you were putting in the same number of hours as me. You bet I made sure they fixed that mistake.”

Connor pondered if this was what it felt like to dream, a little giddy. “There was no need since I merely serve a function for the community. I never asked for public validation.”

Hank hit his shoulder. “Just shut up and enjoy it, why don’t you? I guarantee this kind of thing won’t happen nearly enough.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re correct.”

Watching the rest of the androids receive their own badges and uniforms, Connor smiled, the small ceremony quickly drawing to a close. The audience applauded and the band kicked up again, Connor lying the uniform he’d been gifted on top of the table, fingering the edges of the clothing fondly.

Though he wouldn’t have to wear it to do his job, the mere fact he now had a uniform of his own was touching. Connor knew not all the cops at the DPD were for androids, Gavin among them, but it was nice confirming the vast majority of them were supportive.

“Heads up,” Hank said, pointing behind Connor. He shifted in his seat to watch a young red-haired attractive woman walk up to their table, clad in a blue evening gown.

“Connor, was it? Would you like to dance?”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Hank said in response when Connor glanced at him questioningly.

Not wanting to be impolite, Connor stood up, extending an arm out to her. “It would be my pleasure, miss.”

“So polite,” she cooed, taking his arm as they started for the dance floor. “I’m Amelia Kingston. Before tonight, I wasn’t aware there were so many androids in the DPD.”

Stilling when they stepped onto the dance floor, Connor placed his hands upon Amelia in their proper position, her small stature causing him to compensate for their differences in height. “I expect many more will come to work there in the future, which can only help the DPD's efficiency even more.”

Amelia inched closer to him, making Connor bend his arms a bit. “Indeed. Do you know how to dance, Connor?” she asked, her features turning mischievous.

“Do you, Miss Kingston?” There was no ring on the finger of Amelia’s left hand that he could see, her amorous behavior towards him telling Connor she wasn’t attached. At least not seriously. 

She put her head to the side. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

A new song started, that of a sweeping waltz piece, and Connor went into action.

Dancing was merely a matter of following premade steps, which much like cooking he excelled at. The woman in his arms followed along expertly, exuding an air of grace many of the other people around them on the dance floor didn’t possess.

There was a sense of exhilaration in allowing his body to continually shift, dip, and turn in one of the oldest dances in the world. Connor unexpectedly found himself having fun. 

“You’re an excellent dancer, Connor.”

He nodded, picking up on the next song cue as he launched them across the floor. They were halfway through the swing piece when Connor glanced over at the tables on the side of the dance floor and nearly tripped over his feet at what he saw there.

Hank had crossed his arms, his feet propped up on the seat next to him. He stared at them, a dark stormy expression on his face. It bore all the hallmarks of anger and Connor couldn’t understand why he was upset.

Amelia raised a brow at his almost gaffe, her head going the direction he was looking. She seemed amused as she turned back to Connor. “Well, that’s the green-eyed monster rearing its head if I’ve ever seen it.”

“Beg pardon?” The term green-eyed monster implied jealousy.

“Your friend watching us,” she said. “I’m not sure what exactly he is to you, but I can guarantee he hates me right now.”

“But you’re a very nice person,” Connor insisted, a little lost at the situation.

Amelia patted his shoulder. “I’m sure he already knows that but jealousy isn’t known for being the most reasonable emotion.”

“Are these feelings good or bad? Should I concern myself with assuaging them?”

Amelia blushed a little. “Well, that's a matter of opinion since a bit of fire in a man's passion isn't entirely a bad thing, but generally, yes, such feelings should be addressed.”

Connor stopped at the edge of the dance floor once the song ended, slowly dropping his hands from Amelia’s body. “Then following your excellent advice, I feel I should probably stop interacting with you at this point. I apologize if this offends you.”

“Oh, honey,” Amelia replied softly, then leaned forward to kiss Connor’s cheek. She stepped back, smiling. “It’s fine. You go soothe his ruffled feathers, all right? I appreciate you keeping me company.”

“I rather enjoyed it. Thank you for your time.” Connor started back to the table, stopping in front of Hank. “Would you like to dance at all, lieutenant?”

Hank raised an eyebrow. “I’d think you would have had enough by now.” His words were clipped and short. “Also, the two of us doing that would raise a lot of questions I don’t necessarily want to answer right now.”

Connor sat down beside him, resting his arms on top of the table. He hesitated before asking, “Perhaps we could try a little of it at home?”

“…Maybe.” 

They lapsed into an awkward silence, Hank tapping a few fingers on the table, not even remotely in time with the music playing nearby. Clearly, he was still agitated.

“I'm sorry if I made you feel bad, Hank,” Connor said quietly, feeling as if he was on unsteady ground once again. Navigating social ties and signals had always been difficult, but this latest one seemed the worst. “I assure you I didn't do it maliciously.”

Hank's gaze settled on him, the hard flint he'd witnessed in it lightening a touch. “Connor, you didn't do anything. Stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault. It's…”

He blew out a breath, finally leaning closer to Connor, lowering his voice. “Look, I've had you to myself for so long, I didn't think seeing you with anyone else would bother me. But it does a lot,” he continued, color rising in his cheeks. “I can't believe I'm that possessive. It doesn't sit well with me.”

Hank sat back in his chair, frowning as Connor weighed his options. They were in full view of the public so proving his interest in Hank alone by action wouldn't go over well. While Hank wasn't ashamed of him, he didn't want anyone, particularly coworkers, knowing about them.

Such information coming to light would likely mean Connor would be reassigned elsewhere in the precinct so as to not have romantic partners working together. He wanted to do his utmost to prevent that.

Hank had one hand underneath the tablecloth on his knee and Connor very casually reached under the table and gently took Hank's hand in his. He squeezed it.

“It's very flattering, but no manner how beautiful or handsome I might find other people, my interest is only focused on one person at the moment, and as you know I am very single-minded.”

The fingers against Connor’s pulsed once, squeezing back as Hank slowly released his hand. His insides warmed at the gesture, grateful he'd been able to cure Hank's unease.

“Good to know,” Hank replied, his usual easygoing tone of voice returning, implying it really was.

They’d only gotten through half of the evening’s events, but Connor believed Hank had likely had enough of the ball, not even the free bar getting much of his attention. “Sumo is probably getting lonely at home.”

Hank looked to him with a small smile. “Yeah, poor guy,” he replied, getting to his feet. “We should remedy that.”

“I’ll get our coats.”

The drive had been on the subdued side, Connor contemplative as he went over the events of the evening, just one regret remaining in his mind. Hank looked tired as he drove, turning to the radio and putting on metal music, perking up shortly afterward, the harsh musical chords filling the interior of the car.

He’d stuck to coffee most of the evening, only downing one alcoholic drink during the whole event. Connor studied Hank’s profile in the driver’s seat, the occasional light from a passing car accentuating his features.

Though he’d always been handsome to Connor, something of a silver fox element to him, since Hank had altered his diet and lightened up on his drinking, his appeal had gone up considerably. Connor chose to believe it was due to his influence, Hank’s willingness to listen to reason despite his stubborn nature.

Of course tonight with the fancy dress uniform, the status quo was different, which might explain why Connor had a hard time looking elsewhere. Especially now that they were alone again.

“I feel like you’re trying to bore a hole in me, Connor,” Hank said quietly, his gaze momentarily swinging towards Connor.

He forced himself to look away, Connor feeling heat fill his face, only able to see part of his reflection in the passenger side window. “Sorry.”

Hank was obviously amused, his voice light as he said, “It’s fine, glad all the effort on my part tonight was good for something.”

“It was a fine event,” Connor said. “At the very least you got a free meal out of it.”

“Among other things,” Hank replied mysteriously, leaving Connor to ponder exactly what he meant by that for the rest of the drive home. 

Hank pushed past Sumo as he furiously wagged his tail upon opening the door, overjoyed to see his favorite people again. “Sorry, boy, no jumping on the fancy clothes.”

In silent apology, Connor leaned over and ruffled Sumo’s ears, placating him.

Shrugging off his overcoat, Hank walked over to the closet and put it away onto a hanger. He reached for his shirt and Connor spoke up before it was too late, “Wait if you please.”

Hank’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“At the ball when I asked if we could dance at home, you said it was a possibility,” Connor said, his voice going low towards the end of the statement. “Unless it’s not…?”

Studying him for a few seconds, Hank shook his head. “Why do you always fixate on the weirdest stuff?”

“Is it that unusual to want to steal at least one dance with your partner?” Connor asked, unable to see how it could be. In many of the old movies they had watched together, such a thing was a form of foreplay. Not trying to would have been worse, wouldn’t it?

Hank pulled at the sleeves of Connor’s coat, helping him shuck it once Connor realized what he was doing. “Not really.” He stashed the coat into the closet, then turned to Connor. “You should know I’m a bad dancer.”

“Well, luckily I can make you for your failing,” Connor replied gently, holding out one hand.

“Just the one?” Hank asked sarcastically, the sardonic statement meant in jest, yet he sounded serious at the core, unable to see how good a man he really was.

“It’s nothing you can’t improve upon.”

Looking nervous, Hank stepped up to him, taking Connor’s hand. His palm was sweaty, making Connor wonder how long he’d been contemplating the possibility before Connor had reminded him. Hank’s other hand landed on his shoulder as Connor placed his free one on Hank’s shoulder.

“There’s no music,” Hank pointed out unhelpfully, perhaps hoping it would make Connor give up on the whole idea.

Connor looked to the stereo Hank used to play his records, silently connecting to the device. It was a simple thought that brought sweeping waltz music to life inside the stereo, suffusing the air of the previously silent house. 

Hank clicked his tongue. “Show-off.”

“Not as such,” Connor replied, thinking it was the first time he’d actually used his wireless connective function outside of work. “Now the waltz is a very simple dance at its core. Imagine there’s an invisible box on the floor and we can’t step out of it. For now, just follow my lead.”

“One.” Connor stepped forward, making Hank go backward automatically. “Two.” He stepped to the side, bringing Hank with him. “Three,” Connor said before bringing his feet together at last, Hank echoing the movement, his eyes glued to the floor. Technically, there were six moves, but he purposely kept things simple. 

Hank’s movements were silted, his inexperience showing. No wonder he hadn’t danced at the ball. So far though he hadn’t stepped on Connor’s feet, which was a promising sign and spoke of a little natural talent on his partner's part. “Hank, half of dancing is merely allowing oneself to relax.”

Looking up in annoyance, Hank scoffed. “That’s a bit hard to do when I’m just trying not to fall on my ass.”

Connor stopped, leaning forward to kiss Hank on the lips, what little resistance he encountered melting away in seconds. He smiled as he leaned back, Hank looking at him inquisitively. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re doing very well so far,” Connor informed, hoping Hank was having at least a little fun. “Would you like to try a turn and spin?”

“We’re here doing this, aren’t we?” Hank shot off. “Might as well.”

Adjusting his position on the floor, Connor nodded. “It’s all right if you make mistakes. No one’s here to judge you.”

“Except you.”

“I would never,” Connor reassured instantly. “I’m merely happy you’re willing to do this and that you went to the ball at all.”

Connor started to move them again, Hank admitting, “Well, it wasn’t terrible.” Which was about as close to a compliment that Hank got. On the third step, Connor raised his arm, bringing Hank’s up in the air as he awkwardly spun him in a circle, Hank hesitant and unsure of himself.

“Now back to the previous position.” Hank followed the instruction, a bit of color in his face at the end. “Want to try again a bit faster this time?”

“I guess.”

Halfway into the second turn, Connor realized he’d put too much speed on it. He stepped forward when Hank stumbled and pressed Hank tight to him, his partner slightly out of breath as he recovered. Their eyes met and Hank paused, Connor doing much the same.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” he breathed, his stomach jerking upward, the situation not unpleasant despite his feeling of uneasiness.

Hank chuckled. “That’s rare. You feeling all right?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Connor admitted, reminded of the time they’d been intimate.

Tugging Connor closer, Hank weaved both arms loosely around his shoulders as a more sedate song came across the stereo. “Is it all right if we take it easy? You’re starting to lose me with the complicated shit.”

Connor moved them slowly, the rhythm of the music adding a dreamlike quality to everything. Far from being the calming activity it had been at the police ball, slow dancing with Hank was nerve-wracking. Connor's pulse was unsteady, afraid of making a single misstep again.

Not to mention being so close to Hank was starting to give him ideas. Every time Connor thought he was master and commander of his own body, it always proved him wrong.

Eventually, Hank laid his head on Connor’s shoulder, not helping matters in the slightest. “I guess this dancing thing isn’t too bad.”

With the warmth of Hank’s body nestled against him, Connor had to agree. 

As if aware of Connor's internal struggle, Hank raised his head, gazing at him from inches away. “Let's go to bed early.”

The heat in Hank's eyes palpable, Connor took a deep breath before he asked, “Are we sleeping?”

Hank smirked. “Eventually. Any problem with that?”

“Not at all,” Connor replied with an answering smile as he shut the stereo off, plunging the room into silence. They might have decided to go the slower route in their relationship, but that didn’t mean a little fun here and there was out of the question.


End file.
